


Kiss With a Fist, Rather, Fitz

by newbie93



Series: Drabbles, Ficlets, Prompts, and One-Shots [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Engineering VS Biochem, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, I GUESS some violence? As in a punch., Team Biochem, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7185362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Tumblr Prompt: "I accidentally punched you in the face when I was trying to punch a different guy in the face I'm so sorry AU"</p>
<p>AKA the one where Jemma Simmons tries to defend her friend's honor and Leopold Fitz gets caught in the crosshairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss With a Fist, Rather, Fitz

**Author's Note:**

> Just another random one-shot written in the hopes of getting the writing juices flowing.

“What the _fuck?!_ ” 

The man’s shocked yelp is almost as satisfying to hear as the previous crunching of his nose and Jemma chooses to focus on the fact that she landed quite a good punch rather than the painful throbbing in her hand. 

She’s never been prone to violence, only taking May’s kickboxing classes for self-defense purposes, but she can’t deny the raw power that seems to course through her at the sight of the blood trickling through the fingers that the asshole in front of her has clamped tightly over his face. 

“Stay the hell away from my friend Miles!” 

As if on cue, Daisy appears from the crowd that has gathered around them, bending over to catch her breath before straightening and taking in the scene. Her eyes widen at the sight of Jemma standing triumphantly in front of a man who looks near tears and her hands fly to her mouth to cover the groan.

“Jemma! What did you… Oh no… sir I am _so_ sorry.” 

Jemma’s mouth drops at Daisy’s apology and she crosses her arms in exasperation as she looks at her friend. She gives her a surprised look before glaring at the man and shoving a finger in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to _him_! He should apologize to _you_!” 

“Ummm… no, actually, I don’t think the random stranger I’ve never met, that you just _punched in the face,_ has any reason apologize to _anyone_ for _anything._ ” 

The words cause Jemma’s stomach to drop and her heart begin to hammer in her chest. She stares at Daisy in horror as her mind connects the dots and pieces together the fact that the man she’d just punched is actually the _opposite_ of Daisy’s usual type. 

“St… stranger?” 

Daisy nods her head with wide eyes and an expression that seems to be a perfect combination of horror and sympathy. 

“He’s not… you’re not… he’s not Miles?” 

The slow shake of Daisy’s head has Jemma’s hands flying to her mouth as she turns back to the man whom she’d _thought_ was her best friend’s cheating ex-boyfriend. His hands are still tightly covering his nose and his eyes have the standard glassy sheen that tends to come with being _punched in the face._

“Oh my god…” 

As _his_ blood continues to seep from his fingers, _Jemma’s_ drains from her face and the horror of this entire mess becomes evident. Now that she’s aware that this is _not_ in fact Miles, the sight of the teary blue eyes and crimson blood is far less satisfying an image. 

“What the bloody hell is _wrong_ with you?! Who just waltzes up to people they don’t know and punches them in the face?!” 

There’s a weird moment where she notes that the understandably furious man in front of her is Scottish and feels a flicker of nostalgia as she thinks of England, but the amalgam of pain and venom in his voice causes all warm thoughts to be replaced by embarrassment and panic. 

“I am so, _so,_ sorry… I thought you were… my friend was… I didn’t know… I’m _so_ sorry!” 

She moves towards him, hands outstretched as she tries to get a look at the poor bloke’s nose, but he quickly steps back to put some distance between them. 

“Stay the hell away from me you nutter!” 

The combined anger and terror that seems to leak out of the man is enough to, embarrassingly, bring tears to Jemma’s eyes. She is _not_ wont for bad girl shenanigans and tonight’s _incident_ was the result of a fair bit of alcohol and the desire to do right by her friend. It’s not surprising that her good intentions caused such chaos and Jemma can’t help but feel that this is just the cherry on top of an already abysmal week. 

“I just wanted to… I’m _so_ sorry.” 

She feels the tears begin to build in her eyes as she watches the man tilt his head back in an effort to stem the bleeding and fights her base instinct to inform him of a more efficient way of taking care of his nose. She _is_ a nutter, as only someone meant to be in a loony bin would find a complete stranger in a crowded bar and _punch_ him, and the tears begin to fall as Jemma looks on helplessly. 

The small sniffle that she releases causes the man to shift his attention back to her and, even though most of his face is still covered by his hands, Jemma doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Are… are you _crying_? Why are _you_ crying?!” 

Thankfully, Daisy intervenes before Jemma can let out another blubbery apology. “Because she has empathy levels that honestly no human should posses and she _hates_ doing anything remotely out of line, but she’s a little drunk, _very_ emotional, and thought you were my cheating ex-boyfriend. I’m pretty sure she was trying to defend my honor or something.” 

All Jemma can do is nod along pathetically as Daisy explains the situation, hoping that the man will, at the _very least,_ not press charges for her deplorable behavior.

Surprisingly, the man _does_ seem to soften slightly at that, glancing between the two of them with more wariness and suspicion than anger. Daisy, always better at picking up on social cues, pounces on the opportunity and herds Jemma closer to the man with an easy smile. 

“Let her buy you a beer and take a look at your nose to make it up to you. She’s a doctor.” 

Jemma is just about to correct Daisy for the umpteenth time that she’s not _that_ kind of doctor, when her friend shoots her a glare that shuts her up before she can even open her mouth. Instead of launching into another lecture regarding the differences between being an M.D. and a _double_ Ph.D., Jemma just nods along and tries to look as non-threatening as possible when the man gives her another wary look. 

“I want nachos too.” 

Her mouth drops open at the demand, shocked that he was so quick to allow her the opportunity to redeem herself and equally surprised that it will take _nachos_ to do so. 

“N…nachos?” 

“The _deluxe_ nacho platter.” 

She feels her mouth open and close a few times as she processes the stipulation and finds herself nodding before she can even think about it. 

“Great! You guys go grab that cozy booth in the corner and I’ll place an order for some much-needed alcohol and _deluxe_ nachos.” 

Daisy is off and heading for the bar before Jemma _or_ the still-unnamed man can stop her. When she disappears in the crowd, Jemma turns back to the man and tentatively motions towards the booth. 

“I… I can take a look at your nose now… if… if you’re willing to let me?” 

The man gives her another wary look, blue eyes flitting over her, and he must see the despondent sincerity in her expression because he gives her a short nod before walking towards the miraculously empty booth. 

He slides along the worn leather and Jemma hesitates for a moment before scooting next to him, ignoring her lingering embarrassment and softly reaching to tug the man’s hands away from his face. He looks a bit startled by her forwardness but Jemma finds that she’s too distracted by the rather handsome face obscured by blood to pay too much attention to the emotions _on_ said face. 

She lets out a startled, “Oh!,” at the sight and it causes the man to wince. 

“Is… is it that bad?” 

He looks a bit terrified, and green if Jemma is being honest, and the fear in his eyes causes her to quickly motion in the negative. 

“Oh! No it’s not even bleeding anymore! I don’t even think it’s broken. It… I think it _looks_ worse than it actually is.” 

Her fingers probe his face, tracing lightly over his nose as she tries to get a better look at the damage she’d done. The man hisses when she brushes over an area that is already beginning to bruise and mutters, “Yeah well it _feels_ bloody painful.” 

“I truly _am_ sorry…” 

She pauses, realizing that she _still_ doesn’t even know this man’s name, and hopes that he’ll fill in the silence. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to grasp what her raised brows mean and stares at her silently, his own eyebrows moving up on his face as he waits for her to finish. 

“I’m sorry umm… sir? Mister?” 

His eyes widen at her obvious suggestion and she sees the exact moment that he realizes what she’s been hinting at. “Oh! _Doctor_ actually. I’m a doctor too. Not umm… not _your_ kind of doctor. A doctor of the engineering variety.” 

Jemma feels something flutter in her stomach at this, an excitement that she hasn’t felt in some time creeping its way through her as she realizes that this man is Scottish, unbearably handsome, _and_ a fellow intellect. She feels a small smile begin to spread across her face and reaches for a wad of napkins to wipe away the blood as she shoots him another look. 

“So _Doctor_ …?” 

His eyes widen again, whether its because her ministrations have caused another bout of pain or because he’s finally realized what she’s been getting at she isn’t sure, and Jemma has to strain her ears to hear him over the din of the bar. 

“Oh, oh! Fitz… is my name. You can call me Fitz.” 

He gives her a small smile and it causes a flicker of hope to surge through her. Perhaps he _could_ really forgive her for the pain and anger that she’d caused him. 

She dips another wad of napkins into the pitcher of ice water that had been left on the table and gingerly washes off the lingering blood on Fitz’s face. 

“Right. Well. I’m _really_ sorry Fitz. I _never_ do things like this and I… I can’t quite believe that I _did_ if I’m being honest.” 

He lets out a wry chuckle at that, quirking a brow and shooting her a skeptical look. “ _Really?_ Because that was quite the right hook. It _felt_ like you’ve punched quite a few hapless strangers in the face.” 

She groans at his words, covering her face with her hands as she replays the moment in her mind and recalls how Fitz’s startled expression morphed into one of anguish. When she looks back up, he’s giving her a cheeky grin and Jemma groans again as she takes another napkin and dries off his face. 

Once completely clear of blood, she scoots closer to him and tilts his chin so that she can get her first good look at his nose. The bruising is _definitely_ noticeable, and his nose will likely be swollen and tender for a few days, but Jemma is happy with her original diagnosis. 

“Definitely not broken.” 

Jemma gives a satisfied nod at that before making eye contact with Fitz and inhaling sharply at the sight she’s met with. He’s just staring at her, keeping his head carefully still for her, and she can’t help but feel as though he’s someone she’d very much like to get to know. 

He blinks sluggishly, eyes flicking over her face before glancing at her hand, and Jemma quickly pulls her fingers away with an embarrassed cough. Just because she wants to know _him_ doesn’t mean _he_ would want to spend another second with the strange woman who had walloped him in the face.

An awkward silence seems to descend over them and Jemma feels her nerves begin to tick up with each passing second. She’s just about to apologize again and make a hasty retreat when a monstrosity is placed down on the table as Daisy bounces down on the bench across from them. 

Jemma wrinkles her nose at the _thing_ her friend had just placed on the table, a mountain of chips, meat, sour cream, and lord knows what else, before her mouth drops open as Fitz exclaims, “Cheers,” and begins digging in. 

She and Daisy watch on respectively in disgusted and amused fascination as he makes his way through half the platter, pausing only to gulp down the accompanying beer, before he looks up and notices their varying expressions. His eyes flit between them and a faint blush makes its way across his cheeks as he coughs in embarrassment. He glances down at the platter before slowly pushing it towards the middle of the table and mumbling, “You can have some if you’d like.” 

Daisy reaches forward with an enthusiastic, “Sure!” just as Jemma blanches, moving away from it and saying, “Absolutely not. Have you _any_ idea how unhealthy that is?” 

He gives her a dry look at that before grabbing a chip loaded with cheese and beef, shoving it in his mouth, and making a show of how much he’s enjoying it. When he’s swallowed it down, Fitz reaches for another and stares at her with a smirk as he says, “So far _you_ have been more dangerous to my health than this plate of nachos so… I’ll take my chances.” 

Daisy lets out a snort of laughter at this and Jemma shoots her a quick glare before shrugging in indifference. “Fine, do what you want, but don’t come crying to me when your arteries are all clogged up.” 

“Yeah, seriously, _don’t_ go crying to her because she’s _not_ the kind of doctor you should be visiting for any sort of medical issue.” 

_This_ causes Fitz to put his food down as he whirls to face her in shock. 

_Of course **now** Daisy manages to distinguish between doctors._ 

“You’re not even a bloody _doctor?!”_  

Jemma feels a bit affronted at the insinuation because, as a doctor _himself,_ Fitz really should know that she’s _just_ as much (if not _more_ so) a doctor than whomever his general practitioner is. She lets out a huff, crossing her arms and staring at him with a bit of an edge. “I _am_ a doctor just… not of the M.D. variety.” 

She gives a shrug and reaches for her beer as Daisy chimes in. “Yeah she decided that getting like, a million Ph.D’s would be the better option.” 

“ _Two. Two_ Ph.D’s.” 

Fitz is shaking his head next to her, mumbling soft enough that only he can hear, and turns to face her as he exclaims, “I can’t believe I let you mess with my nose!” 

Jemma rolls her eyes at this and feels herself growing more and more defensive each second that Fitz gives her that comically betrayed look. “I didn’t _mess_ with your nose!” 

This causes Daisy to release a soft, “ _Well_ …” and Fitz to raise a brow and, okay yes looking at him _now_ with his bruising and swelling she supposes that _maybe…_  

“Okay… I realize that by _punching_ it I was technically messing with it… but all I did after was clean it up and inform you it wasn’t broken! I may not _have_ an M.D. but I’d like to think that I’m intelligent and qualified enough to be able to determine whether or not one’s nose is broken!” 

She’s a bit breathless by the end of it and fixes Fitz with a look that she’s quite certain conveys the mixed emotions that this night has caused her to feel. He stares at her for a few long moments before turning back to his nachos and mumbling, “Not even a bloody medical doctor,” with a shake of the head. 

Jemma and Daisy share a glance, both unsure as to whether or not this chapter has officially been closed, and shrug in unison. They communicate silently, agreeing that perhaps Fitz might like to be left alone now, when the man in question looks up and asks, “What did you get your doctorates for?” 

Jemma startles at the question, glancing over at Daisy who oddly looks as giddy as Jemma can remember seeing her, before turning back to Fitz in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He takes another long sip of his beer, ears suspiciously red, and turns his body so that he’s facing her fully. “What’s your field of study?”

“Oh! Umm… biochemistry.” 

And _that_ is what leads to an hour-long heated discussion on the possible application of dendrotoxin in mechanized weaponry. A discussion that causes Daisy to leave the booth ten minutes in, leads to _three_ more rounds of beers, and confirms to Jemma that she’d been right to want to get to know Fitz. 

By the time the bar closes, she’s decided that he’s without a doubt the most intelligent person she’s ever met and _equally_ undoubtedly someone she’d quite like to spend as much time as possible with. And, while the conversation has been intellectually stimulating, as he leads her out of the bar with one hand on her back and the other gesticulating wildly as he makes a point, Jemma can’t help that she’d like him to stimulate her in a _physical_ capacity as well. 

“…and really it’d be _quite_ easy so long as the ratio between…”

Jemma cuts him off by tugging him closer to her on the sidewalk and firmly pressing her lips to his. 

Unfortunately, the passionate snog that she’d imagined is _not_ what she gets. Fitz lets out a yelp, shoving her away from him as though physically repulsed by her. The reaction is so strong, so instantaneous, that Jemma panics and groans as she covers her face with her hands. 

“Oh Fitz, I’m _so_ sorry… I just thought… I thought we… I misinterpreted this entire evening. This is so embarrassing, I’m _so_ sorry. I’ll just… I’m going to walk that way.” 

She turns around quickly so that he can’t see the embarrassed tears that are about to fall and moves to walk in the opposite direction they’d been headed. 

“Jemma! Jemma _wait!”_

She doesn’t turn around as he calls out for her, still too mortified to face him, but when he tugs at her arm she can’t really ignore his presence. She heaves a deep breath, releasing it in a sharp sigh, and looks up to see that _Fitz_ is teary-eyed as well. _This_ is confusing to her until he points towards his face and mumbles, “My nose. You… you bumped my nose. That’s why I pushed you away not… not because of… I’d quite _like_ to kiss you it just… it hurt.” 

She gasps at the explanation, not really processing much other than the fact that she’d hurt him _again,_ and moves closer to him so that she can grab his head in her hands and make certain that her mouth attack hadn’t caused another round of bleeding. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Again! Lord I’m apologizing a lot to you tonight. Are you all right? Does it still hurt? I can run back to the bar to see if they might be willing to give you some ice.” 

“Jemma.” 

She pauses her rambling at the soft utterance of her name and glances away from Fitz’s nose to look him in the eye. Even in the darkness of the night his eyes shine a bright blue and she inhales sharply as her mind finally processes _I’d quite like to kiss you._

“Oh.” 

He gives her a bashful smile, one hand moving to rub at his neck as the other seems to hover near her waist, and tilts his head in a manner that Jemma can really only describe as adorable. 

“Can… can I? Kiss you I mean?” 

She can feel herself nodding before Fitz has even finished asking the question and holds her breath when his hand finally settles on her waist. He shuffles forward, inching his head towards hers at a frankly glacial pace, and Jemma has to use all the self-control she can muster not to just close the distance between them. 

_You nearly **did** break his nose last time. Follow his pace._

When his lips _finally_ descend on hers, Jemma thinks that punching Leopold Fitz in the face might have actually been the best (and _only_ ) mistake she’s ever made. His lips move slowly against hers with a sureness that causes a flame to work its way through her body. She’s conscious of his injury now, careful not to brush against his nose and more than happy to instead make certain that his hands on her waist, her fingers in his hair, and their lips pressed together are their only points of contact. 

When they finally pull away for air, both breathing heavily and grinning like mad, Jemma lets out another gasp as a slow trail of blood begins to make its way down Fitz’s face once more. She immediately grabs her sweater, gingerly pressing it against his nose, and lets out a frustrated whine at the fact that she’s hurt him _again._  

The combination of alcohol and raging hormones causes her eyes to well up once more and she can’t bear to look at Fitz since he’s shaking with… 

_Laughter?!_

“I’ve never had someone kiss me so enthusiastically that they’ve drawn _blood._ ” 

She narrows her eyes at him and lets out a huff as her concern _for_ him begins to compete with her annoyance _with_ him. “You berk.” 

She begins walking again and isn’t the least bit surprised when Fitz falls into step beside her, talking to her with an amused smile that’s hidden by her sweater. 

“Seriously! I mean… I dated a biter once and she came _close_ but… Jemma Simmons you’re the first girl who’s kissed me with enough vigor to cause bodily harm.” 

Considering how dramatic he’d been the _first_ time she’d accidentally caused such harm, Jemma can’t quite fathom how teasing he’s being now, but decides that two can play. “Yes, well, I’ll cause _more_ harm if you don’t shut up and stop the damn bleeding. You’ve ruined my sweater.” 

She hopes that the amusement is clear beneath the haughtiness and that Fitz knows that the sweater is the _least_ of her concerns where he and his bleeding nose are concerned. Luckily he must be able to detect it, either that or he’s just dense in this one specific instance, because he lets out a muffled laugh before nudging her with his shoulder and saying, “Well, you’ve ruined my face so lets call it even.” 

She’s not sure when during their resumed walk that she’d looped her arm through his, or perhaps when _he’d_ looped his arm through hers, but she tugs him closer and scoffs in feigned shock. “Please, if _anything_ I’ve done you a service. I’m fairly certain that your face is now perfectly symmetrical thanks to my tweaking of your nose.” 

He lets out a chuckle at that and shifts his arm so that it’s looped around her shoulders. They walk silently for about a block before Fitz breaks it, sounding all too pleased with himself as he asks, “Hey Jemma… know any good _medical_ doctors that might make house calls at 2AM on a Saturday?” 

She turns to him with her mouth open and finds herself staring at Fitz, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning at her triumphantly. She hasn’t known him for very long (though somehow it feels like she’s known him her entire life) but has still been able to figure out that Fitz tends to talk with a confidence and gusto that he doesn’t necessarily follow through with. So, instead of giving him the answer he’s likely expecting, an amused, “Bugger off,” Jemma instead decides to beat him at the game that he’s been entirely unprepared for. 

She gives him a lascivious smile before wrapping her own arm around his waist, letting her fingers slide beneath his shirt and brush across skin, and saying, “Sorry Fitz, the only person who’ll be tending to your _needs_ tonight will be me.” 

She cackles at the stupefied, yet entirely aroused, expression on Fitz’s face until he collides with a Stop sign neither of them had noticed and adds, “black eye,” to the list of injuries she’s unintentionally given him.


End file.
